Crucible Womb

As we mend from all our pain
So Let our hearts in grace remain,
The kind of grace that often falls
and, foolish, leaps to lovers' calls.

Let us no more be ashamed
we seek to be both free and tamed
We were instructed that our souls
and bodies take receptive roles

And then in supplication we
are blamed for what we're trained to be
And we are relegated to
What opposites deftly construe

Beginning with what's right and wrong
Then upon that, what's weak or strong
Divisions, Rigid~ class and s*x
One is The Seen and one reflects.

Intuition learns its place
Usurped by Reason's Iron face
The two may never coexist
or coalesce by wholeness, kissed

For reckless power, sundered we
defy our deep integrity
and now, our beings cleft in twain
we must make sense of what remains.

Worth of values is decided
By how sharply we're divided.
For if you're not at the peak,
you're at the bottom, small and weak

But I would rather carry out
The woman's virtues tossed about
I see power broadly now~
Strength will gentleness allow

The tyrant's reign of "this or that"
will be unseated where it sat
And for our wholeness we will keep
This blissful gift to feel and weep.

Me.

On Getting old (2021)

On the benefits of aging with a lifelong degenerative disability or illness.

I wonder.

As some people age,
They seem to get colder.
More rigid,
More fearful.
They seek sameness
And safety.
And they lose hope
In everything but memories
That reflect when their
Bodies were whole.

While others,
Usually the ones,
wrecked in some other way,
Shine brightly
through their own
decay

The pain of aging
Is not just ravages
of the body.

Born from the degradation
Of generations before,
Afraid to grow old.

Youth and beauty and money.
Obfuscating,
smearing the journey
As a strange type of
Failure.

Denying the power of
The wisdom in the rings
Of the ancient oak.
Forgotten truths
For fear of the aging flesh.

Each new pain,
Each limitation
Like a yoke.
More of the self is used
Just to make sure.
Just to avoid.

Pain Cracking the stick
Cross their backs
Maybe for some?
for the very first time.

Distorting experience
and memory.
Inflicting cruelty
for doing what
came easy.....
before.

I guess that would
feel like
Betrayal.

The eyes grow darker
with each dashed expectation.
Each mile, dollar, breath, short.

The narrative
Of anticipation
becomes
Threatening.

Maybe they
learn helplessness
And then rigidity.
Pain becomes the
punisher
Not just of the flesh
But of the whole life.

We don’t celebrate
The possibilities
We worship
at the feet of the sunrise-

And the thankless sunset
Just burns.

Instead,
We confront everything
That is not youth,
With violence.

In mobs,
We March in rank and file
with pitchforks-
and fire-
And credit-
Against the ravages of time.

I am a lucky one.

Tiny agonies inhabit my body
And they have always been there.
Phantoms bruising
From the inside
And echoing throughout.
Joints like jello
constant correction
Vigilance to remain erect.
To maintain dignity

And I have lived so long
Long enough to know
The pain that walks
beside me always
Has prepared me well for age.

I will face each new erosion
Of body as I always have
Acknowledging
Accepting
Finding alternatives
Accepting
Maybe laughing
And then accepting again.
I had no choice.

I will never have the terror
Of losing the fruits of my youth,
For wholeness of body,
Was never mine.

Youth and renewal
Decay and new life.

I am grateful,
as a woman advancing
In years,
That I will never grieve
such losses.

I have grieved
And been reborn
A thousand times
In broken youth.

If I learned love then,
I cannot ever be parted from it.
Just as I Cannot
be parted from pain.

I am free now.

-

Relevant.

to privilege

To those who cannot see my mind,
Who leave me to my s*x, defined-
To you who cannot think beyond,
What you accept as Truth and bond,

Who overlook my point of view
because you need me under you
or maybe you are just afraid
of social debts which must be paid?

I ask, when all the curtains drop-
And all the privileges stop-
Will it be you with us aside?
as baby factories and brides?

Will we rise up and meet you there
as partners with an equal share
Will it be you with kings and guns?
I hope it's 'us' with 'us' as one.

And boy, it's gonna look for now,
As if you're losing ground
But thats the way it's gotta be
To turn this world around.

I wrote this in 2015. I wanted it to get better not worse.

How I am doing this.

My garden taught me about the microcosm.
The value of the grains of sand
in the unfolding of the giant grand story
of the earth.

The holograms way.
The whole is reflected
in the smallest part.
The principles are the same
at all levels.

When you know that the truth
is as big in a breath
as in the theory of relativity?
Then beauty is found
in the smallest of moments.

a life's work is magnificent
whether it is the care of a child
or the making of a masterpiece
or putting a car in space.
the larger is no greater than the smaller.

And the microcosm
has as worth
as the macrocosm.
No difference.

How I am doing this.

My garden taught me about the microcosm.
The value of the grains of sand
in the unfolding of the giant grand story
of the earth.

The holograms way.
The whole is reflected
in the smallest part.
The principles are the same
at all levels.

When you know that the truth
is as big in a breath
as in the theory of relativity?
Then beauty is found
in the smallest of moments.

a life's work is magnificent
whether it is the care of a child
or the making of a masterpiece
or putting a car in space.
the larger is no greater than the smaller.

And the microcosm
has as much worth
as the macrocosm.
No difference.

For NADAGRAS, NADADADA 2014.

On every playground
There is a swing
between the known and the
only-dreamt-about.
Between the comfort
and the fearsome wild of
the forbidden.

And sometimes,
Instead of the typical path
back and forth between,
(which, in itself, is worth it!)
someone pushes the pendulum
sideways.
it travels in a dangerous circle then,
almost upsetting the structure that bears it.
Almost colliding with
Distracted playmates
But tracing the edges of
everything outside its path
that the tether will allow,
It thrills,
disturbs,
and sometimes
nauseates the riders.

The teacher comes,
masking a mischievous smirk-
for she knows the desire to
test limits.

To push
a little more.

She walks slowly
so as to give a little time
for the spiral to close
and the thrill to abate.
Before she says
"ok guys, use the equipment the right way!"

Authoritative, but not without regret.

The dizzy ones,
inspired from their sojourn into the forbidden,
race to the next
search for novelty.
the next way
to make the ordinary
magic.

As we mend from all our pain
So Let our hearts in grace remain,
The kind of grace that often falls
and, foolish, leaps to lovers' calls.
Let us no more be ashamed
we seek to be both free and tamed
We were instructed that our souls
and bodies take receptive roles
And then in supplication we
are blamed for what we're trained to be
And we are relegated to
What opposites deftly construe
Beginning with what's right and wrong
Then upon that, what's weak or strong
Divisions, Rigid~ class and s*x
One is The Seen and one reflects.
Intuition learns its place
Usurped by Reason's Iron face
The two may never coexist
or coalesce by wholeness, kissed
For reckless power, sundered we
defy our deep integrity
and now, our beings cleft in twain
we must make sense of what remains.
Worth of values is decided
By how sharply we're divided.
For if you're not at the peak,
you're at the bottom, small and weak
But I would rather carry out
The woman's virtues tossed about
I see power broadly now~
Strength will gentleness allow
The tyrant's reign of "this or that"
will be unseated where it sat
And for our wholeness we will keep
This blissful gift to feel and weep.